


Pinnacle

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [73]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: They weave in and out of Calgary during the sprint to the postseason, crossing paths sometimes, talking constantly when they’re not, and every time, Jared comes home to Bryce and Bryce comes home to him. Things are good. Things are perfect, honestly. Jared couldn’t ask for more.





	Pinnacle

Jared’s kind of learned from experience that once they like, do something new and Bryce realises it’s not some massive thing that changes everything, he’s pretty damn comfortable with it, and any nervousness he had before melts away, like it never existed. 

Which is basically just Jared saying they kind of fuck a lot. Which they’ve always done — really, with the stupid amount of time they spend in different cities, if they’re in the same place they’re generally jumping each other — but it’s to the point Jared has to put his foot down because anal sex on game days seems like a bad idea.

Bryce’s pout is so ridiculous. Also ridiculously effective. Jared only caves once, though. Calgary needs him.

“ _Calgary needs me_?” Bryce says, when Jared says so.

“Dude, you’re the Flames’ top scorer,” Jared says. “I’m not going to jeopardise that.”

“Have I mentioned your dick is not that big?” Bryce says, then, “Hey, don’t pout.”

Jared is not pouting. That’s a Bryce thing.

“Your dick is a perfect size,” Bryce says. “I love your dick.”

“I’m not caving this time,” Jared says. “You’re playing the _Canucks_ in less than twenty-four hours.”

Okay, Jared caves twice. Bryce scores two goals against the Canucks the next night, including the game-winner, which is simultaneously great — they needed those two points — and terrible — now Bryce has _ammunition_.

For the record, Jared is absolutely not complaining about Bryce being all over him, it’s just — it’s the _principle_ of the thing.

“Do you want to argue about the principle of the thing or do you want to fuck?” Bryce asks. “I’ve got to head out in an hour, so we’ve only got time for one of those.”

“You are playing in like eight hours,” Jared says. 

Bryce waits.

Jared is so bad at not caving.

*

Other than the fact that Bryce has been acting like Jared’s some, like sex magician and he’ll die if Jared doesn’t immediately bend him over the nearest flat surface — again, Jared is emphatically not complaining, have you _seen_ Bryce Marcus’ ass — things are, well. Normal, Jared guesses? Better than normal. A little stressful, in the run up to playoffs, though Jared’s more stressed on Bryce’s behalf than for his own sake, because the Hitmen are kicking _ass_.

He eats at his parents’ a few times. Bryce comes when they both happen to be in town, and it’s not that bad when he does; Jared doesn’t know if it’s the influence of his mom, or if Bryce is genuinely starting to grow on him, but his dad is nice to Bryce now. There are like, three barbs a night max.

They go on a double date with Chaz and Ashley, if by ‘date’ Jared means they chill at Chaz’s, and by ‘double’ he means Bryce is very determinedly acting like they’re just bros the whole time, this ‘no touch’ forcefield around him the whole night. It’s annoying, but the fact that Bryce is even willing to be there is a step, Jared knows, so he doesn’t complain, just shares eye rolls with Chaz whenever Bryce isn’t paying attention. That night kicks off an ongoing Mario Party rivalry with Chaz, and when Jared _isn’t_ fucking Bryce over every surface, they’re frequently playing Mario Party at home, trying to hone their skills so they can better kick Chaz’s smug ass.

Jared goes on a killer streak and scores like, a lot of goals. A weird amount of goals. He’s usually a playmaker, but maybe goal scoring abilities are sexually transmitted, because Jared’s finding the back of the net constantly, it feels like. He gets named the WHL player of the week, which is fucking awesome. 

Mid-march, they’re both comfortably in a playoff position. The Hitmen are better off — they’d have to drop most of their remaining games to even be budged from their spot at the top of the Eastern Conference, while the Flames, with a bad stretch, would end up facing a surging Canucks in the first round. It’s not that Jared doesn’t have faith in Bryce, or the Flames, but — it would be _really_ bad if they faced the Canucks, especially since their goaltending’s still a little shaky.

Amidst all that, Jared’s birthday is coming at him at a ridiculous pace. He’s a little afraid Bryce is going to, well, he doesn’t know what, and he’s afraid to speculate, but it’ll be right in the first round, so other than the vague fear, he mostly isn’t thinking about it. Playoffs are everything, and this might be Jared’s last year with the Hitmen — Jared _hopes_ it’s his last year with the Hitmen — and he wants the Chynoweth. Hell, he wants the damn Mem Cup. He wants everything. 

While he's asking for things, he'd happy to take a Calder of either sort next year, though that is…not as likely, probably. Even Bryce fucking Marcus doesn’t have one of those, though he got close, and Bryce is in a whole other league than Jared. Literally, right now, but even if — when — they’re in the same one, Jared is never going to be as good as Bryce is. That’s just a fact. It doesn’t bother him — honestly, even when he hated Bryce as a person his hockey skills were never in doubt. Now they’re just — not many people get to be so lucky to watch a genuine superstar and go ‘he comes home to me’. There is maybe a little satisfaction in the thought. Okay, there is maybe a lot of satisfaction in the thought. 

They weave in and out of Calgary during the sprint to the postseason, crossing paths sometimes, talking constantly when they’re not, and every time, Jared comes home to Bryce and Bryce comes home to him. Things are good. Things are perfect, honestly. Jared couldn’t ask for more.

*

Ten days before Jared turns nineteen, the Hitmen clinch first place in the Eastern Conference, are within two points of first in the league, and Jared comes home the next afternoon beaming, comes home to Bryce beaming right back at him, looking just as happy about it as Jared is.

Bryce insists on celebrating that night. Specifically, he insists on going out to dinner, which Jared is a little surprised by, because like — people could see them together. And yeah, they’d probably assume they’re buds, but as much as they went out together at the start of the relationship, they haven’t, really, since they got serious, and especially not since Jared got drafted. 

Jared kind of gets it — he’s been told by Greg multiple times to avoid going out in public with Bryce as much as possible, in case fan pictures leak and people start wondering why a random Oilers prospect is attached at the hip to Bryce Marcus. The smart thing to do would be to celebrate at home, get delivery or something, have some killer celebratory sex, but the second Bryce offers, Jared jumps on it, goes to get changed into something that isn’t travel creased before Bryce can change his mind.

Jared doesn’t go into Bryce’s sock drawer with any ulterior motives — well, actually he does, because he’s pretty sure stealing is an ulterior motive. Bryce has way better socks than he does, painfully soft — Jared doesn’t want to know what they are made of or how much they cost — and part of living together is enduring your boyfriend stealing your much better socks every chance he gets.

Except the socks aren’t socks, or, at least, aren’t just socks, and Jared frowns when he unearths a jewelry box. He should put it back, but now he’s worried Bryce got him like, super expensive cufflinks he’ll never wear or something for his birthday, and obviously seeing them in advance will make it easier to steel his face on his birthday and not do the douchebag thing he did when Bryce got him the pendant.

Except the pendant is exactly what he finds. Bryce said he had a receipt, but now that Jared’s thinking about it critically, what’s the likelihood someone makes a whole lot of pendants reading ‘JBM’? It was obviously a custom job. A custom job Jared like, straight up mocked to Bryce’s face, and Bryce had no way to return after.

Jared, feeling shitty, guiltily goes to put it back before Bryce finds out he saw it, but the door opens before he can.

“Um,” Bryce says, sounding panicked. “I can explain.”

“It was probably stupid of me to think you could actually get it returned,” Jared says.

“What?” Bryce asks. “Why would I — what are you talking about?”

“The pendant?” Jared says. “What are _you_ talking about?”

Bryce swallows, hard, and Jared looks back down into the box and belatedly notices a plain silvery looking ring tucked underneath it.

“Wait,” Jared says. “Is that supposed to be—”

“I asked your parents for permission,” Bryce says. “They said you were way too young.”

“I am way too young,” Jared says, completely unable to wrap his mind around the ‘asked your parents for permission’ part, then, “Yes.”

“What?” Bryce says.

“Yes,” Jared asks.

“I didn’t even—” Bryce says.

“Do you want to?” Jared asks.

“I _asked your parents for permission to marry you_ ,” Bryce says.

“So yes,” Jared says.

“They said no,” Bryce says.

“I’m an adult,” Jared says, “And this isn’t the 18th century. So. Yes.”

“Can I—” Bryce says. “Can I get down on one knee and do it properly before you say yes?”

“I mean, if you insist,” Jared says. “But it’s kind of too late, I already said yes like, four times already.”

“Jared,” Bryce whines. “Give me the ring.”

“Wait, no,” Jared says. “Maybe _I’ll_ propose with it.”

“It won’t fit me,” Bryce says. “Gimme the ring.”

“Fine,” Jared says, grinning like a fucking fool, and Bryce gets down on one knee in the middle of the fucking bedroom, and Jared just — can’t believe this is his life right now.

“Jared Bradley Matheson,” Bryce says.

“We really don’t have to include the Bradley,” Jared says.

“Let me finish!” Bryce says.

“Okay, okay,” Jared says. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“Would you do me the honour—”

“The _honour_?” Jared says.

“Jared!” Bryce says. “Come on!”

“Sorry!” Jared says. “Keep proposing!”

“Would you do me the honour of marrying me?” Bryce says, all in a rush, so fast the words overlap, probably so Jared can’t interrupt again. 

“I already said yes,” Jared says.

“ _Jared_ ,” Bryce complains. “Marriage is _serious business_. Take this seriously.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “Um. Bryce Justin Marcus? I would be _honoured_ —”

Bryce scowls up at him.

“—to marry you,” Jared says. “Can I have the ring now?”

“Okay,” Bryce says, and takes it out of the box, slides it onto Jared’s finger. Jared dimly notices his hands are shaking for some reason. It fits perfectly, which shouldn’t surprise him, but does.

“I’m shocked this thing isn’t like, crazy blinged out,” Jared says. 

“You wouldn’t have liked one that was,” Bryce says. “I wanted to get something you wouldn’t feel weird wearing.”

“Still feel pretty weird wearing it,” Jared says. “But in a good way,” he says, when Bryce frowns. “Like, holy shit, Bryce.”

“Yeah,” Bryce says, looking a little stunned.

“Please get off the floor so I can kiss you,” Jared says, and Bryce, thankfully, obliges. 

The kiss is clumsy, more teeth than mouth. 

It’s the best thing Jared’s ever experienced in his life.


End file.
